How I Became a Were
by TicoMama
Summary: For Bran, and Jessica this is the worst time in their lives they have ever experienced.  THey come together in a friendship built on tears, will it save their lives?
1. Chapter 1

Horrible News

I was shy of turning twenty-five by two and a half months, and it was just starting to get cold, as it should in October. My husband died two years ago, and with my chosen estrangement from my parents the only person on this earth I had left, was my grandfather. His death, while not unexpected at 89, was devastating. I received the call from a man named Bran Cornick, at three in the morning. My grandfather had often spoken about his friend, with a great deal of admiration and respect, however I had not expected how young he sounded. After a few hours of arrangements, I was on a plane, headed to Troy, Montana where Mr. Cornick would be waiting to drive me into Aspen Creek. I insisted that I could find my own way, but Bran had a remarkable way of manipulating my plans, creating the temporary perception that I did indeed need his assistance. It wasn't until I was half way to Montana that I had realized I had been vanhoozled. I chocked it up to the grief I felt just behind my eyes. I refused to break down until I got to Montana, and then an only then, would I cry. For now, I had to ensure that everything I did was controlled and precise. If I didn't, then Gramps funeral would never take place, I would never have his ashes placed, and all his belongings would be a mess for ages, that was the nature of my personality. Store it up until it has to be dealt with, then it would be manageable.

The plane landed in a town called Troy, which owned a very small airport. The town was beautiful, from what little I could see, and I didn't blame Gramps a bit for loving this place, or moving here after Grams died. It felt like home, which was a feeling that I was not used to. I went to the small carousel to retrieve my luggage, and wondered when I would meet the infamous Bran Cornick. I recalled Gramps talking about him like a wise friend that he trusted, and appreciated. The sound of him on the phone told me he was maybe twenty-five; it hurt my brain, and I was suspicious of the whole situation. I knew Gramps was dead though, because his lawyer, Mr. Robert Matthews had left three voice mails during the flight. All of which ensured me that my grandfathers estate was squared away, and he would meet me in Aspen Creek right after the funeral.

The flight into Troy was perhaps half full, and the extra space was comforting to me. I have always had a sixth sense so-to-speak that allowed me to know things about people, mostly feelings, and motives. When I was younger, my Gramps told me it was Spiritual Discernment, but as I grew his storey got a little more colorful, with a claim that the now ousted Fae were a part of our family line thousands of generations ago. I suppose it isn't impossible, but I could hardly fathom how the traits could have survived this far down the line, at least to the degree that it was presenting itself in me. I was perfectly comfortable accepting that God simply blessed each of us with purpose and this trait had something to do with the path I would travel until death. With that thought my bag finally made it around and I grabbed it. I turned to find the exit that lead to the parking lot, which was where I agreed to meet Bran. He let me know I could find him in his Hummer, waiting just outside the terminal. I stopped by the bathroom before I went outside to brush my hair, and make sure my mascara wasn't running down my face. I didn't wear much makeup, just a little eye shadow, mascara, and lip gloss. Once I was sure I looked presentable, I made my way to the parking lot. I insisted we meet this way, because if I didn't like him or the way he felt, I was out of there. Once I explained this to Bran, he merely chuckled and agreed, which frankly was about the only thing he conceded to.

The air in Montana was crisp, clean, and about five degrees below zero. As I stepped out of the terminal, I took a deep breath and took in my surroundings. Most of the broad leafed trees were bare; however the pine trees made up for the lack of green. To my surprise the pines were enormous and thick; full of birds and life even in this cold weather. I felt a small part of me spark to life, and realized, even if only in the back of my mind, that this place had a life of its own. I glanced around and saw a hummer in front of me. I started toward it, and at about fifty paces from my destination, a youngish looking man emerged from its interior. He walked towards the front of the vehicle and waited, leaning on the grill with his arms crossed. I inspected him with my sixth sense, and I felt grief. As I listened, I realized he truly missed my Gramps, maybe as much as I did, and this revelation served only to make a mushy spot in the place I had guarded against this man. If he truly loved my Gramps this much, then he must not be a horrible person. I realized I had stopped walking and felt my face flush, but I recovered and called out, "Mr. Cornick?" I did my best to make it sound normal, not paranoid. He smiled, and approached me with a sad smile on his face. I got the impression he was used to people being scared of him, and it was wearing on him.

"Let me take your bag, Jessica, I'll load it in the back. It's very cold, why don't you wait in the Vee?" Bran said as he reached for my bags.

"No, I only have this one, I can load it myself thank you." I replied. I don't know what made me be so stubborn, maybe the tone in his voice. He spoke to me with a full expectation of my obedience. I felt the impulse to correct that expectation from the get go, because while I can be very compliant, each person has to earn that loyalty and trust from me. He stopped short, and looked at me. His expression reminded me of the failsafe expressions people will create when they don't want you to know how they really feel. Too bad for Bran, I didn't need to worry about facial expressions. Beyond his grief, and tiredness, were curiosity, loneliness, intense control, and seething rage that caught my breath. I quickly removed myself from where ever it was my sixth sense takes me, and caught Bran giving me a suspicious look. I smiled and headed around the back of the Hummer. All I could think of is this person is a raving lunatic, who is that angry? What was more; I was still actively loading my bag into this man's car, still concisely preparing myself to go into the wilds of Montana to attend my Gramps funeral, and totally aware, that despite my discovery, no other person on this earth had made me feel as safe as this man did. I decided as I shut the back of his Hummer I would just be as silent as I could until I could get to Gramps place. As I walked towards the passenger door, Bran appeared from the other side of the Hummer, and opened the door for me. I decided I would be gracious this time, because his expression looked irritated and amused all at once. I smiled at him, as I climbed up to the seat, and said, "Thank you." He shut the door, and walked around the front, and I took the opportunity to really look at him. He looked like he was a twenty-something, but he felt older. Much older, maybe this is why Gramps liked him so much. Or maybe this man was the world's best con artist, and attempted to lure an unsuspecting old man into ruin. I quickly let that thought go, because if Bran was trying to cheat anyone, grief like his wouldn't fit. Not to mention, my Gramps was sharp, and stayed that way even towards the end. I begged him to let me come out to him, when we realized he was so ill, but he refused. Finally I decided I was going to go to Troy and call him for directions to his house. He wouldn't turn me back if I had come that far, and the day after I made that choice, he died. I felt the tears well up behind my eyes, and couldn't stop them from their treason as they streamed down my face. Bran opened the door, and I looked at him, and started to apologize for crying. To my surprise, Bran shut the door, reached over and pulled me into a hug. I was so shocked I just let him, because he didn't feel like a stranger, and I think it was comforting to him, to comfort another. I let my forehead rest on his shoulder and the tears just poured and poured. I wasn't even actively crying, but the grief just ran through me like water running down a mountain. It was taking everything in its path, until there is nothing left. Once I had control of myself again, I gently pulled away from this person, who was closer to my Gramps, than most. I looked at him, and saw he too was crying. I smiled a little and said, "I won't tell anyone if you won't, we wouldn't want people to think we aren't tough." I felt week, despite my words, and wished I could just find a place to sleep. Bran smiled at me, a relieved smile, and I thought he was just doing it to be funny. I reached out gave his hand a squeeze, and then wiped the tears off my face. That's when I noticed that Bran's shirt was really wet.

"Oh Bran, I'm sorry, I ruined your shirt." I said as I pointed to the very wet area. Bran gave me a hard look, and replied, "How many shirts can I have in a lifetime? To mourn the passing of a beloved friend, that happens too often it seems. I would give all the things I own, to keep all those I love and care for safe and alive." I was shocked at the honesty of the statement, and I think Bran was too. He exhaled and looked at me for a moment, then put his seatbelt on and started the car. We were barley on the highway, when I fell fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Human Omegas

Bran turned onto the highway that would take them to Aspen Creek, when he noticed, Jessica was fast asleep. Bran thought it was interesting that this woman, who was so suspicious, would sleep so deeply alone in his presence. Although, Bran always was very good at hiding his true nature from everyone, except maybe from her. He felt the tickle of presence when she approached him for the first time, and his wolf perked up at the intrusion. It was first time sense his mother died that he felt what he did from her, although Jessica left the feeling a peace behind her, not the wicked control of his mother. His wolf, which was left out of control from the torment of his mother, quieted at her presence and Bran for the first time in centuries, felt quiet himself. He drove that way, having come to the conclusion that this woman was a human Omega, when she stirred and woke up. By the time she woke up, they were about three hours out of Aspen Creek. He had many questions for her, but realized that he would only feed her suspicion if he cornered her and never get answers. He would have to hunt slowly for his information, because she would see him coming otherwise, a revelation that had him annoyed and a challenge that had him eager. He smelt her embarrassment, as she realized that she had fallen so deeply asleep. She sat up and looked around, flattened her hair down, and leaned into the chair. He felt her looking at him, and was still so she could see what she wanted. Trust he thought was very important to her, and consistency would earn him that. Finally, she spoke to him.

"Sorry," she said "I guess I was more exhausted than I thought. Did I say anything?" He laughed at her, because she had said things. He would never be able to decipher what, due to the fact that she mumbled but he wouldn't tell her that. "Oh wow, was it that bad? Whenever I am stressed I talk in my sleep. Sometimes I say things that are less than polite" she said as she looked away. Her face was flushed again, like it was when he caught her poking around in his mind. Bran liked how human she was, and enjoyed observing her. "It wasn't that bad," he said teasing her. He smelt her relief, but again noticed that she didn't completely trust him. Bran didn't think it was his fault, but wondered who had damaged her to the point that she defended herself at all times.

"This place is vast" she said after a few moments, "and beautiful. I feel like it's going to swallow me up." She turned and smiled at him, perhaps her way of making him feel at ease. He felt her again in his mind, and concluded that she reached to the world around her this way, without thinking. He took a chance, and challenged her. "You know I can feel when you do that. It's rude." He said this to her, with some conviction, but not as though he was angry. He wanted to test her, see if she would confess what she was doing. The spicy smell of surprise flooded the Vee, followed by disbelief, then embarrassment. He smiled to himself, and waited for her to speak. "What is it you feel exactly?" she said. She didn't try to deny what she was doing, which told Bran she had control of her ability. She didn't know what Bran was, or she would have confessed everything to him. She thought she had some secrets to save, and was wise to return his statement with a question versus silence, perhaps get some information of her own. Bran smiled at her.

"I feel you poking around in my mind, what is that you're doing exactly? If you wanted to know something, it's polite to ask." Bran said again with just a little sting. He was trying to bait her to give up more information. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he could smell her annoyance with him. Then she took a deep breath and he smelt her calm as she reigned in her emotions. Impressive he thought, she had such control of herself. "I know my grandfather told you about his theories about our family line. He thinks it's a result of some fae influence, I don't know for sure. He neglected to tell me about you, however. You still haven't answered my question." She crossed her arms with the last statement. Bran didn't think she cared one way or another, what he thought of her, and just as he was going to give in, he smelt her guilt. He smiled; because he knew then he had her. He just waited. "I apologize for being rude" she said, and then looked out the window. To Bran's surprise, she stayed that way for about forty or so minuets. She seemed content to be lost in her thoughts, and her scents changed rapidly, despite her body language appearing calm. "It feels like a breeze. A warm summer breeze" he said to her finally. He couldn't help but let how peaceful she felt leak into his voice, and was surprised, to realize it was his wolf, that desired her to know. She looked at him hard in the face. He allowed it, because he too could understand why it might sound as though he was trying to court, or poke fun. He didn't know enough about her to continue this, and he grew angry at how carless he had been. He had no desire to open his heart to anyone, especially after Leah had left. He was prepared to unleash that anger on her, to scare her away permanently, but before he could she did the unthinkable. She reached out and took his hand. After a moment, she squeezed, let go and relaxed back into the seat. He understood now, that this is what part of her grandfather she carried besides his features. She carried his ability to see beyond what was obvious and accept all of who people were. He realized that she could feel his anger, and she, the intended victim, was willing to hold his hand and comfort him. It startled him so much; he just held her hand back and let her take comfort from the gift she was giving him. She seemed content to just look out the window, and he let her. Bran in all his years had never meet someone, besides, Mercedes, that has so quickly found a place so close to his heart, in such an aggravating manner. He hoped that she was not as apt to destroy his property as Mercy was and smiled at the memory of a bright yellow ball of smoking metal adorned the tree that served as a stopping post.

"What is that?" She said suddenly. He looked in the direction she was pointing, and saw in the distance a honey brown colored wolf. It was one of his, and was this far from home because he was patrolling. Bran wasn't sure how Jessica had spotted his wolf; no human should have been able to. He wondered if she was picking up parts of him, through the contact he had with her mind to mind. "He seems hungry," she observed, "I wonder why? There is plenty of wildlife in this area, right?" All good questions, Bran thought, and he sent a message to his wolf to go home.

** SIDE NOTE:**

**While this story is my own, from my own thoughts and ideas, I did base the interactions with some characters and themes that belong to Patricia Briggs, author of the Mercy Thompson Series. **


	3. Chapter 3

Note: In haste, I uploaded a document with errors and inconsistencies. This is my corrections…I would love feedback!

Bran dropped me off at my Gramps house, and helped me bring in my one bag, at his insistence. After the few hours I had with him on the drive from Troy, I felt confident that this man was no danger to me, not because I didn't believe he could be dangerous, but because he wouldn't be, not if he could help it. Bran felt different than any person I have come in contact with before. After eight years in the Military, I had my pick from a diverse group of people, some more interesting than others. I would still be in the military, but I was injured in an IED explosion, and it was determined I was better off as a civilian. Maybe they were right. My husband died overseas, along with my career, so I guess I gave my fair share to my country. I didn't need to work, because of the life insurance, and my grandfather left me his house. I wasn't sure I wanted to stay here when I found that information out, but now that I was here, it didn't seem right to leave. I wanted to know this part of my Gramps, because he loved it here so much. As we walked into the house, I stopped just inside the doorway. The living room was the first room we entered, and it was huge. The layout of the home was designed to be open, and airy. The ceilings were raised, and drew your attention up, with exposed wooden beams. In the center of the room was a huge natural cut granite fire place that was very well used. On the fireplace mantel there were pictures of my grandmother, myself, and my parents. I walked over to the last picture and placed it face down, which earned me a suspicious look from Bran.

"Your Grandfather mentioned your estrangement from your parents, but he had hoped it could be resolved. Not yet I suppose." He said. "No", I responded, "not yet. Not soon; perhaps never." I said coldly. I know my grandfather didn't understand, I didn't tell him all of my reasons. I didn't want to drive a wedge between my grandfather and my mother, so to ensure that, I had to lie. Well lie by omission. I always suspected that he knew there was more, but he never pushed, and I never offered. I let him think that I was offended by my father's anger issues, and left it that. I let him think less of me. I don't regret that now, in fact; I felt peace that I didn't let him die with hate for my father, or my mother. No one should have hate in their heart when they leave this world. I certainly don't, but the involuntary reaction I get when I think of my father too much, is not something I like to have in public or anywhere. It is just easier to not remember and I do my best to keep it that way. With that thought, I turned to Bran and looked at him. He looked back, and I caught his eyes. There was such power in that look, and I felt my heart skip a beat. "What are you?" I said not looking away. I felt myself take a step towards him, before he blinked and broke the spell. I shook my head a little, the fog clearing. How embarrassing, I thought! I looked at Bran again, but this time I avoided eye contact. I learned a neat trick from basic training, focus on the little spot between the eyebrows and you get the perception of eye contact, but not the aggression from dominate people who feel the need to get offended by it. His expression was concerned, and his eyebrows were furrowed. I reached out to him, with my sixth sense, and felt caution. He was hiding something, and I fought to keep my face neutral. I knew he could feel it when I reached out to him, but until I knew what he was so worried about me finding out, I would rather he thought I was still in the dark. I forced myself to think of something embarrassing and let it leak into my voice when I said, "Sorry, I know that was weird." I looked down at the last, so he wouldn't see the worry in my face. Bran made a funny noise, like a horse forcing air out of their nose and when I looked up, he sniffed. He narrowed his eyes, and then his face went back to the expression I saw when I first met him; the mask face.

"I should leave and let you get your belongings sorted. I am surprised you only have one suit case. Is it not custom for females to carry more?" he said with forced humor. I played along, "Well, eight years in the military will teach you pack what you need." I countered. It wasn't a lie, not completely. I hadn't packed too much, because I didn't think I would want to stay. I packed the bare minimum in an effort to use it as an excuse to leave as fast as I could. Now that I was here, in this incredible house, I didn't know if I could leave. Besides, is there much of a housing market in the middle of the wilds of Montana?

"How long do you expect to be in Aspen Creek, once the funeral is completed?" he asked casually. But I felt it, tension. He really was concerned, but I didn't feel comfortable pushing my luck to find out why, and with as tired as I was, I doubted I could keep my face neutral if I found out. "I don't know, maybe a good while." I gazed out of the wall that was made entirely of picture windows onto vast open land that was swallowed up with the most beautiful mountains I have ever seen. I let the feeling of home this place brought me leak into my voice when I said, "This place, it calls to me as loud as any human I've encountered. But all I hear from the land is peace, and purpose. It's not often I hear that from people." I was honest with him; because I was worried my little ability is what made him so cautious of me. Bran looked at me for a moment, and smiled. "I know the feeling" he said. With that he turned and walked out the door, letting me know he would call me soon, to arrange the funeral service. My grandfather requested he sing at his funeral, and Bran said we would work out which song in the morning. "Oh Danny Boy" I said, "If you're up to it." I was teasing of course, and it earned me a smirk. "I am up to many things, Jessica, as you will learn." With that last statement the door shut, and I was left to ponder its meaning. I couldn't decide if it was meant to be threatening or not. I thought not.


	4. Chapter 4

A Time to Say Goodbye

I stood there by the fire place trying to decide if I was too hungry to sleep, which led me to the thought of where would I be sleeping? I wandered down a short hallway with two doors that lead to the master bedroom. I could see my grandmother's influence here despite her death. My grandfather must have really missed her to build this home with aspects that she would have asked for, or maybe after 56 years of marriage, you just start blending. There were large picture window doors that opened up to a small covered porch with a privet path to the backyard. Just beyond the porch was a small area with a hot house, filled with flowering plants. My grandmother loved flowering plants, and if anyone could make them grow here, it would have been her. My grandfather must have hired someone to care for them, my only memories of his green thumb was him with bush sheers hacking away at his poor overgrown victims; grams supervising in quiet disapproval. I felt oddly lonely in that moment; for all that it was a lovely memory. I lingered there in that room for a little longer, and decided that I would eventually replace the mattress and clean it out a little. For now the guest bedroom would be fine. I pushed the feeling of guilt to the back of my mind. I didn't like the idea of packing loved ones up into a box, and doing what? Selling their belongings, storing them in the attic? I would have to go through it all and decide one by one the best course of action. For now I just needed to rest. On the other side of the house and up a short set of stairs were the guest bedrooms. There were three in total. One my grandfather had merely placed a day bed in, however, he saw fit to store my grandmother's sewing machine and table here as well; as if at any moment she would walk in and take up a project. I felt of jolt of excitement, I loved to sew, thanks to her, and to be able to have this part of her was wonderful! I left that room and went further down the hallway. There was one smaller room, that had a twin bed and smaller furniture; child sized. That thought gave me a pang of regret, Grams always wanted great grandchildren. It just never happened with my husband and me, and then he died. I quickly let that emotion wane. I moved on to the last room, and it stole my breath. Not because it was anything terribly special, although it did have a connected bathroom, but because on the bed was a small envelope with my name on it. I walked over and just looked at it. It was my Gramps handwriting and I was afraid to touch it. After a moment I took a deep breath and opened the letter.

_My dear Jessica,_

_I love you. I knew you would find this letter, because I know you! I imagine the idea of sleeping in my room is hard, but I know you will follow the path that is right for you. I want you to remember what I have taught you about faith and forgiveness but more than that, love, no other thing is greater than love. No matter what happens- trust in the Lord your God with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding, but in His, and in all your ways, honor Him. I know you will mourn for me as you did your grandmother, but do not forget to celebrate! I am with our Heavenly Father, and with my dear wife. I have missed her so much. Take care of this place, and of yourself. Know that you are never alone. Try not to close your heart to possibilities out of fear. There are things in this lifetime that only age can teach you and things that only faith can open your eyes to, enjoy them all, but in Gods grace. I love you. I am proud of you. Trust your instincts, all of them. Trust your heart, the past should never govern your future, it should only serve to make you wiser. I love you, I always will._

_Gramps_

After I read that letter, I cried for what seemed like forever. My tears soaked the paper I cried so much, then I fell asleep utterly exhausted. When I woke the morning sun was barely peeking above the mountains. I glanced at the antique clock on the bureau and saw that it was 7:30 in the morning. Good Lord, I felt like utter crap. After rummaging through my bag, I found my toiletries and took a shower. It took a long time for the hot water to work out the tension in my shoulders. After I had dressed, I couldn't decide what I should do with my hair. Eventually I blew it dry, in an effort to make myself feel better. I even put on a little makeup. After I made my way into the kitchen, I made breakfast and coffee. I took a seat on a stool at the breakfast bar, and began to eat, trying not to think. I was so successful, that when the door bell rang, I nearly slipped off the stool from the startle. I had totally forgotten that Bran was going to be here this morning to arrange the funeral service with me, although he did say he planned to call. As I made my way to the door, I reached out, as I usually did, to see what mood my visitor was in, and to make sure it was in fact Bran. It was my observation that the front door is the first and last line of defense between you and who ever wanted to get to you; why just throw it open?

It was Bran alright, he was as tired as I was, with an appetite like a bear! I hoped he liked coffee, because I didn't think my grandfather drank tea.

"Good Morning, Bran. Please come in." I said as I opened the door. I was tired and knew it was evident in my voice. "What can I get you to eat?" I asked matter-of-factly, and started towards the kitchen. When he didn't answer, I looked back to him. He had a confused looked on his face.

"What wrong?" I asked. I stopped and faced him concerned. I fought not to reach out to him, the look on his face causing me to hesitate.

"I didn't feel you that time." He said coolly and started forward as if nothing had happened. I knew that tone, a lot of people use it especially when they don't want you to know they are beyond freaked out. It's a default defense mechanism to make things seem like they're not a big deal to them, when in fact it's a huge deal. The root of this type of reaction, at least in my experience, is usually due to fear or shame, perhaps both. I wondered what had happened to him, to be so scared about my harmless ability. It was almost as if he was waiting for the other hand to drop, to be able to finally see the dark side. To my knowledge, besides making people with something to hide a little uncomfortable, I had never caused anyone actual harm. I narrowed my eyes at him, for the briefest of seconds, but I am sure he caught my expression. I decided then it was about time to explain to him how this little ability of mine worked.

"Oh," I said, as normally as possible, "well that's simple. Why don't you tell me what I can cook for you, and I'll explain while I'm at it?" I smiled at him and waited for him to decide. I did my best to relax, inside and out, so he would. Bran looked at me for a little while longer, and then he seemed to relax a little, but I didn't trust his outward appearance. To preserve what little trust I had from him I resisted the urge to reach out and gauge his thoughts. I understood then why people often put their foot in it, it's hard wondering what's going on in someone's head, and not being able to look.

"Alright, eggs are fine. Coffee is fine as well. I think I will be amused by what explanation you come up with." He said as if he thought I was going to yank something out of mid air. That served as my confirmation. He didn't fully trust me, and why should he? We had known each other less than a day, and he didn't have my ability to look and see a person's true colors. I would have to earn his trust, a task I was fearful would be nearly impossible. I had never dealt with someone who could tell what I was doing; I supposed there would have to be some concessions made, and with that, I let out a deep breath and embraced the calm that honest to goodness truth can give you. He followed me to the kitchen and sat down. I retrieved a clean mug and handed it to him full of delicious coffee. "Creamer and sugar are on the tray if you like that in your coffee." I said and vaguely pointed in the direction of a small tray. He took the mug and started for the sugar, I just turned away to retrieve the eggs and frying pan, attempting to hide the scowl on my face. What a crime to ruin wonderful coffee with sugar. "Well" He said "I'm ready when you are." He looked up at me expectantly. "Not before you tell me how you take your eggs, over easy, scrambled?" I let the question die off so he would fill in the blanks. Why was he always so ready to get his way in things? To my annoyance, I was answered with a boyish smirk peppered with the question of why I didn't simply just see for myself. So he noticed that I was retraining myself. "You need to make up your mind Bran Cornick," I said as sweetly as I might, "I have an all access pass or I don't. How do you take your eggs?" That earned me a real smile, and of course it made me blush. "Scrambled then" He said coyly, and examined my face like it was a piece of complicated art that he was trying to understand. I turned my back to him and started the eggs.

"Alright," I said, "well the first thing to understand is that I have been able to work with people in this way, my whole life. That's nearly twenty-five years. While that's a fairly small number in the grand scheme of things," waving my hand in the air, "it's a long time to function a certain way." I looked over my shoulder at Bran to see if he was following me thus far. He nodded, and I certainly could not tell if he was doing so in agreement or in an effort to get me to continue. I raised an eyebrow and continued. "As I gained life experience, I was able to understand what I was doing. In my teens I had a hard time differentiating what was my emotions, and motives from others. Certain things are" I paused circling my hand with the spatula, "louder than others." I looked up from the pan of eggs in order to gauge his understanding. He looked as though he was certainly trying to follow, and possibly failing. "Ok, it's like when you are in a mall, for example. There are people around you having conversations, and doing normal things. A person who would have an extreme emotion, perhaps, would verbally project that emotion by yelling. You can't help but hear it. That's what happened this morning. Your hunger was very loud, I suppose, and I couldn't help but know about it. I didn't have to really try to look for it, I listened and it was there. It was like being hit with a water balloon. I was just able to see it mid flight and get out of the way." I plated his eggs, and handed them to him. I mulled over what I said for a moment, and decided it was a horrible explanation, but it was the best I was going to come up with this morning. "Make sense?" I asked. He took a bite of his eggs, and looked at me. He seemed very amused by the expression on his face. I wondered if the eggs tasted awful, or if he thought I was just funny.

"That was a horrible explanation, but I suppose, in an extremely simplified way, it made sense." He said. I thought he might feel that way, and flushed a little. For a brief moment I pondered why this man caused me to flush so much, and wondered if there was a medicinal cure for such things. I let that thought go, and moved on to subjects I could control.

"So now that you understand, would you like to go over the funeral arrangements with me? Or is there anything else you would like to know. I am feeling oddly generous today." I said teasing just a little. I felt a smile creep across my face at the startled look Bran gave me. I took a sip of my coffee to hide it.

"Generous?" Bran asked. He chucked a little, and then finished his eggs.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take him half a minute to eat those eggs. What's more is he was a picture of politeness; he didn't shovel his food or anything like that. He just ate fast, and I was willing to bet he was still hungry. I wasn't about to reach out and confirm my hunch, and when he looked up at me, I couldn't hide my expression of surprise before he saw it. I decided in that moment, to test some waters, after all I had just shared a ton of personal info with him, couldn't that go both ways? I was going to have to say this just right, or I was going to take three steps back with him.

"Bran, what are you?" I blurted out. See I can be leading example of tactfulness. He put the mask face on almost instantaneously.

"What would make you ask such a question?" Bran responded, as if I was being foolish. Did he think for a moment that was going to work on me? I don't take bait so easily.

"Alright Bran, it really makes no difference to me, I was just wondering. If you don't want to talk about it, then I'll leave it be for now. Would you like to look over this program, and let me know if you think it will work for tomorrow?" I said, and hoped he knew I meant it. It wasn't a lie; I truly wasn't concerned about what he was, and I knew it was something more than human. I am just curious by nature, but he did confirm to me, there was something more. That was enough for now. I looked up at him, with a calm expression and waited for him to choose. For as strong willed as he was, he certainly reminded me of a creature easily encouraged to hide away. He reached out for the program, and started to give it far more attention than I thought someone of his intelligence needed to. I let out a breath of air, got up from my spot at the bar and topped off our coffee. He was projecting his wariness like a bright red flag flapping in gale force winds. It was almost funny, but obviously it wasn't to him. I just ignored him, and tried to think of something calm so I wouldn't get caught up in the grief I was trying desperately to ignore. I closed my eyes, rested my head on my hands and let my mind wonder to the beaches in my home town, and how beautiful they are at sunset. I let myself hear the waves lap the shore, feel the wind brush my hair across my face, the sand crunching between my toes and to smell the wonderful salty spray. Once I found that place, I looked up to the sky in my minds eyes, and thanked God for his precious gifts; His creation that was made especially for His beloved people. No matter what trials and tests we have in our life, God never leaves us. My Gramps taught me that, and I knew it to be truth. I felt a single tear run down my face followed by a soft touch of hands to wipe it away. I opened my eyes to see Bran's face two inches from mine. It should have startled me, but the look on his face made me freeze. He looked as though he was really searching for something, and I didn't move, so he could find it.

"How do you do that Jessica?" he asked, and I wasn't entirely sure he was really asking me or even what he was talking about. I must have made a face, because he smiled. It was a real smile, and the beauty of it, made me feel a little weak, so I smiled back. With that he planted a kiss right on my forehead, turned around with the order to get to work. I was left blinking, and just followed him to the bar again. To my dismay, Bran had scribbled corrections all over the program, and I was just slightly less than annoyed.

She had no idea what she was, or even how valuable she was to him. It angered Bran to no end. With Leah, it was easier; he could force himself to keep her out. With Jessica, it was hopeless, she had found her place in his heart, as though he was born with and empty place just for her. She had claimed it even before he knew to protect it from her. He sighed to himself inwardly, because he knew he could never let her go. Unless she wanted to go, but even then, he would keep her safe. She was his, and he could no sooner change that, than stop his heart from beating. The challenge was going to be convincing her of all this. Bran could tell she was smitten with him, but she had a stubborn streak that was going to make his life difficult. He found himself excited by the challenge she posed to him, and wondered at how she would set the stage for their courtship. Bran smiled to himself, deciding that one way or another, this woman would demand to be pursued, the whole time he had with her. She wasn't the type to trail behind her man like a small puppy. That thought brought the first wisp of sadness, she was human, and all humans die. He moved beyond that as quickly as possible, the sudden desire to preserve her, almost bringing his wolf to the fore.

"Okay," she said, mercifully interrupting his train of thought, "I have relented to your list of _suggestions_." She said with a huff, passing the program back to him. She stared off into the wall, full of thought as he went over the program again. "This is as much a celebration, as it is sad." Her voice trailed off with the last words, and he watched as memories ghosted through her eyes. He observed her, wondering at all the scents of her emotions. Grief, Joy, contentment; always she ended with contentment. She looked at him finally, her face in conflict with itself.

"This is easier, than when my husband died. It took me a long time, to find peace about that. I think it's because my Gramps was older, and he prepared me" she paused "I didn't expect to lose a part of my heart when I lost my husband." She looked down at the paper again, waiting for his thoughts, a bitter smile working its way across her face. Bran found it didn't seem to belong there. Words were a talent of his, and for all things valuable in this world, he didn't know what to say, so he spoke from his own experience.

"When you love a person with your whole heart, when your spirits become one, then the loss of the other half is agony. It is a wound that is not easily healed, if ever. Many times, we learn to simply survive." He said quietly. She looked at him then, and he felt her in his mind. She rushed into him, like cool water, easing the pain of memories, stirred to life from the scent of her pain that of course were better left in the past.

"You're right, and that is how it should be. I am grateful for the time I had with him, all of it was a gift." And she smiled a soft smile. She searched his face for a moment, and then she caught his eyes. She looked at him hard, and held his gaze. It was a moment of choice for Bran, and he yielded, because this creature was theirs. She could look upon them as often as she wanted. When she realized what she was doing, her expression changed to one of shock then embarrassment. That wonderful red color filled her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands.

"I am so sorry, Bran, I know you don't like it when I reach out to you." a muffled voice explained. When she pulled away from him, it was almost painful, and Bran felt the start of a headache. He could smell her embarrassment, but also a little fear.

"What are you afraid of?" he asked, and could have kicked himself for being so foolish. She froze, and slowly let her hands fall from her face. He knew she had caught his mistake, something he would never have done with anyone else, but she answered the question anyways.

"I let myself go, with you. I forgot about boundaries, and without those I am afraid I'll hurt the people around me. I don't know what it is about you, or what you are, but something." She let the sentence trail off. Her expression one of intense thought. He thought she was trying to decide how to ask. How did he know she was fearful? To his surprise, she slid off the stool, and walked over to him, all the while continuing that intense search. He wondered if she even realized she was moving.

"You are like gravity, you draw my attention. It's almost as if I can't help myself." She started to say something more, and stopped herself with a quick snap of her teeth. She narrowed her eyes at him, and then stepped back. After a moment, of them both staring at one another, she made her move, and ran.

"I'm going for a walk." she declared. With that she turned, put on her coat, hat and boots, and headed out the door, leaving Bran trailing behind her. Obviously Bran had thought he could convince her he was human, not werewolf. He was fairly certain she had no idea what he was precisely, but she was convinced that there was something more. She had made her mind up, he realized too late, that he was anything but human, and all this time, he was asking himself the wrong questions. With that epiphany, the front door shut, and he could hear the snow and dead leaves crunching underfoot as she made her way to the woods. He forced himself to wait as long as possible, subduing his wolf with sheer will power to wait, so as not to frighten their prey. They wouldn't let her get too far, but if he rushed after her now, he didn't know what would happen when they caught her.


	6. Chapter 6

"Jessica!" He called from behind me, "where are you going?" I didn't know exactly, so I pointed down a small path that caught my eye winding through the trees, just beyond the hot house. "That way, I'm going that way."

"Do you even know where that leads?" he said, much closer this time. In fact I was nearly across the yard, a rather large one at that, when he called from the door. He shouldn't have been able to catch up that fast, or so noiselessly. I felt my skin prickle with fear at the realization, which in turn compelled me to stop. I slowly turned around, and found myself within touching distance from Bran. I saw it then, the thing he was hiding from me. Looking back at me was not Bran, not wholly, but something more and I knew in that moment, without doubt, that particular something could utterly destroy me. I also knew that I had officially lost my mind, because there has never been an instance in my memory that I have felt so safe. It was a moment of decision for me, a moment where I had to choose, and I was fearful that I was too laden with grief and exhaustion to be able to do so. Should I run, or stand my ground and see what happens?

Of course I was too stubborn and foolish to ever run from something, so I stood up a little straighter, took a deep breath, and listened with my ears, heart, and that other sense. What I could hear was wind rushing through pine needles, and dead leaves. It rushed towards me bringing with it, a bitter cold that stung the tip of my nose, and ears. It smelt good, fresh, and clean. The wind found a gap between my coat collar and flesh, sending a freezing chill down my spine. Small birds were chatting away, annoyed with Bran and I for disturbing them so early in the morning. The trees were swaying too and fro in a slow dance with one another, and I liked that. I smiled up at their branches, and squinted at the brightness of the morning. That drew my memories to the mountains, and I looked over towards them. Heaven itself was looking back at me, winking with a spill of glorious light over the side of the deep purple cliffs. It settled me a little so I turned my attention to Bran, who was the picture of calm, but that was only an outward appearance. Inside, where only I could see, was turmoil. He was in pain, the kind of pain you have when your heart breaks and you feel utterly alone. That feeling I know well. He was confused, and his other was hunting. Currently I was its paramount interest. I learned to pick the flavor of the hunt out while deployed, and mostly it kept me and the troops in my care, out of the weeds, so to speak. I trusted it, and reluctantly I confessed to myself that I trusted this man, who was more than a man. I was fead up with secrets, either we were going to agree to disagree, or he was going to explain to me what's going on. It was his choice, but there are consequences to actions, this choice was no different.

"Maybe it leads right here", I said, "It leads to truth." I looked at his face grow hard. He knew exactly where I was going with this conversation, and didn't like it. I was afraid I might not like it either.

"That's a good face, Bran, it almost worked." I crossed my arms. I was mad as hell all of the sudden and I didn't know why. To my shock, he furrowed his eyebrows, let out a huff and started to tear off his cloths. "What are you doing?" I was scrambling to grab his pants from the snow, and afraid to look up, for fear of what I might see. His little impromptu strip tease totally diffused my angry bubble, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. I held my arms out with all the cloths, face averted, when he spoke.

"Look at me, Jessica, look at me and see your truth." He said with bitter satisfaction. So I looked at him. I found his eyes, and there was fury in them, spawned from what he thought was the one thing that would cost him all my trust. Why should he assume that? What did he think I was going to see? He was literally shaking with anger, and I threw open my connection with him. I was being careless in my anger and allowing a more open connection with Bran than I should have. In a split second, ungodly pain ran through my body. I dropped to my knees, clutching my stomach; I fell to my side unable to balance myself. I was gasping for air by the time I was able to shut the connection down. I never took my eyes off Bran, despite the white hot points dancing in my peripherals. He was completely nude on all fours, his body moving and shifting as though there were no natural boundaries. His skin pealed back, and reformed in a thick silver coat, but that took a long time. The wet pops and sickening brittle snaps his body was making didn't make sense to me, and I blinked hysterically trying to put into focus what I was seeing. I will never forget the horror of a body with no skin to hold it together as it moved and reshaped itself. It took a long time, for everything to finish. When it was over a small, quivering wolf was before me. I had managed to sit up long before Bran finished his transformation, and was perched near a tree for support. I don't know why I wasn't scared, but I wasn't. Maybe I was in shock? I just sat there, and stared. He was beautiful and terrible all at once. A force of nature bottled up into a creature that looked as though it could be kicked and quelled into submission. I took a deep breath, and relaxed back into the strength of the tree. It was solid and true, the ground beneath me cold and ancient, reminding me I was indeed still in reality. The birds however were silent. They knew that death was looking at me from less than ten feet away. I felt a small, tired smile creep across my face, accompanied by one hell of a headache, which caused me to pinch the bridge of my nose. Was that me or Bran? I couldn't tell, and I was really really cold now. I tried to stand up, and found my legs were as good as Jell-O. I wasn't too far from the house so I chose to ignore the hungry look on the silver wolfs face, gathered up Bran's cloths, and started to crawl. I heard a whine behind me, followed by a sharp nip on my butt. "Ouch!" I said as I turned to look at the offender. I was rubbing the sting away, when Bran trotted up and dropped a pair of lavender boxer shorts in front of me. I would have carried them for him, had he not bitten me, but I was pissed now. "You seem to have that totally under control," I bit out, "you carry those." I grabbed my bundle and continued on. By the time I got to the house, I was shaking from the cold. Certainly Montana had taught me to give it a little more respect. The heat inside was merciful, and I simply collapsed onto the floor once we were both inside. After a moment, I realized, I was too cold, and it was because I was starting to succumb to hyperthermia. My clothes were soaking wet, they needed to come off and fast. I rolled over to my back and wiggled my feet out of my boots with my toes and unzipped my coat. As I was doing that I pulled my sweater over my head and had to wait a moment after that because the effort left me so tired I wanted to sleep. I felt my eyes fluttering shut, as a soft nip on my stomach brought me back to. I managed to unbuckle my pants and push them down to about my thigh, but that was as much as I could do. I turned my head when I felt something soft brush against it and found a blanket on the floor next to me. I took it, and wrapped myself in it. I needed to get warmer, and fast. The fear produced from the danger of this situation translated into adrenaline, and as I had trained my body to do so many times before, I put myself in check. Forcing my upper half upright, I kicked off my pants, which was difficult due to the shivering. Then I crawled over to the furnace on the other side of the room and collapsed. It was wonderful, and I was safe, because Bran would watch over me. I let myself fall asleep, cognizant that a warm furry body was tucked up next to me.


	7. Chapter 7

"You need to eat, wake up." An irritated, yet familiar voice bellowed into my ear. I opened my eyes, blinked and quickly covered them again. The light was agony, for currently I was suffering from a horrible headache. I heard myself groan, and I tried to roll over into the pillows which turned out to be my one way ticket to the floor. I must have been on the couch, not my bed. The resulting thud, and laughter from Bran, served as confirmation that yes, this was really happening.

"You might want to grab that blanket back, unless you're trying to give me a view of your backside." Bran said matter-of-factly. I snatched it from the couch and covered myself as fast as possible, fully aware that my face was on fire. Thank the Lord I still had undergarments on. "I would have dressed you, but it seemed wiser to let you do that for yourself" He said. He was right, had I woken up any differently then I went to sleep I would have panicked, although I don't remember going to sleep really, just a random assortment of memories. It bothered me a little that he would know that about me. It bothered me even more that he was able to move me from the floor to the living room without waking me.

"Thanks" was all I could say as I sat up and kept my eyes firmly on the floor. The memories of the last few hours were flooding back to the fore of my thoughts. I hadn't sufficiently worked them out before. One in particular seemed vitally important. "Are you dressed" I squeaked? I didn't like how weak I sounded, but I just really didn't want to look up and see a nude man wondering around my house. Bran, fully dressed, crouched down before me. He gently lifted my face to see his. The moment I found his eyes, everything settled again, the world stopped spinning around in my mind. I sighed, and rested the weight of my head into the warmth of his hand. The oddness of my reaction, brought reality thundering back, a deep red flush reclaiming its proper place on my face; I froze. Bran's thumb was softly stroking my cheek, the full weight of his eyes on me. I felt the tickle of fear, and something else in my stomach.

"You are afraid of me." Bran said pulling his hand away. On impulse I grabbed his wrist, before he could pull it back. Looking him in the eyes, I told him no, then kissed the palm of his hand. It was the truth, I wasn't afraid of him, I was afraid of how he made me feel. My stomach took the opportunity then to break up the awkward moment by growling. "I'm hungry," I said sheepishly. "I'm going to find clothes, then I will find food, but before that, I will find aspirin. My head is splitting. When it stops doing that I want to talk about this morning." When I stood up, had the blanket secured around the important parts, and was satisfied that I could indeed walk to the kitchen, I did just that; ignoring Bran trying not to be obvious as he watched me out of the corner of his eyes. I had just drunk the last of the water with my tablets when a soft knock came at the door. I opened the link between me and the world winced because my head was pounding but managed none the less to find that my visitor was annoyed, curious, and hungry. He was also whatever Bran was. I could tell the difference now, because Bran had presented me with an uncontaminated example earlier today. I started for the door, but hesitated. Bran didn't want whoever that was to see me without clothes on and had I not been so out of it, I wouldn't have forgotten that I wasn't dressed myself. His jealous protective response was like a loud speaker voice in my mind, which didn't serve to ease the pain of my headache so well. That earned him one of my best looks. He had not staked any claims on me. I didn't care who was on the other side of this door, he didn't have a right to govern me that way.

"Bran," I said a little sharply, "do you know who is there?" I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb to the door. He was leaning on the arm of the chair, legs crossed at his heals along with his arms for the entire world trying to look calm. He knew I was annoyed with him, which truthfully made me feel bad. I would have just talked to him about it, had I not been so miserable. I sighed, walked over to him and looked at his face. "Bran, I'm sorry," I lied, "I'm sorry" I said again more truthfully, "I'm just going to go put some clothes on ok? Then I'll make us some food." His relief flooded the room like a sweet smell. Pushing his way off the couch, he gently kissed the top of my head before moving past me to the door. Whoever this was, it must be important for him to be here. I can't imagine Bran dragging someone way out here for a small case of hypothermia, especially when I was so obviously fine now. When I got into my bathroom, my reflection was stunning. Dark streaks of mascara were racing down my face towards my chin. My hair was larger than usual do to the static cling from my hat. I was going to have to take a shower. The warm water was wonderful for my headache. The aspirin kicked in, while I was rinsing my hair out, and I found that some of my spunk was returning. I emerged from the shower, dressed myself in my most comfortable sweat pants, and cotton Tee, and pulled my hair back into a loose pony tail. I was going to make sloppy Joes, but found an entire meal waiting for me on the table, with my new house guest and Bran already eating. They seemed to be happy to see one another, and I saw Bran reach over and swipe at the other man in a playful manner. The true joy on his face brought a warm happiness to my heart. I started forward and was midway to the table when they both turned and looked at me. In that one moment the testosterone was nearly palpable. My new house guest was big, and had a handsome in his roughness sort of look. I didn't mistrust him, but knew without a doubt, that if he tried something, I would lose, and while he didn't look like the type, there was an edge to him that didn't scream harmless. I looked at Bran then, and I didn't want him to see the anxiety that was rolling around in my stomach, so I smiled instead. I don't think it worked, because he got up and escorted me back to the table, pausing beside my chair, pulling it out in a very old fashioned but appreciated gesture.

"Jessica, this is my eldest son, Samuel Cornick" Bran stated. I sat down, and looked him over again, did he say eldest son? He looked to be the same age as Bran. I let it go, Bran obviously was not human, and who knew how children worked for him. "Hello Samuel, it's a pleasure to meet you." I extended my hand out and he shook it normally. The first true communication you give to a person happens when you shake their hand. I personally hate goo hands, especially from a man, but even more than that, I hate death grips. Samuel wasn't trying to overpower me, nor was he afraid of me; he established an even playing field, which eased my anxiety a lot. Most people don't lie with their body language, even when they think they are hiding something.

"Hello," he said in a cheery way that I knew to be false by the weary look in his eyes, "I heard you got a little chilly outside today? You seem to be doing better now?"

"Yes, much better, thank you." I responded a little cautiously. Bran had obviously shared with him our little experience. He smiled and started to resume whatever it was he and his father were discussing before I sat down. Truthfully I wasn't paying any attention to what that was precisely. I wanted to reach out to him from the moment I laid eyes on him, but I wasn't sure how Bran would feel about that, and there was no real need to do so. Suddenly I was curious to see if Bran would be able to tell if I was or not, and felt a little pang of guilt for considering it as viable excuse to even try. In the end my curiosity won out and I reached out towards Samuel carefully. I only wanted to hear him not Bran, or the gig was up. I wouldn't be able to hear as much this way, but it wasn't about what I found, Bran trusted him, and that was enough; it was about my experiment or distraction, whichever way you choose to look at it. I envisioned a tunnel coming from me, and I forced it to narrow down to almost a cone. This was the only way so far I was able to focus my gift, which left out details yet magnified other things. For a fleeting moment I thought to use that theroy on individual things at a later time. For now, Samuel was happy, truly happy for his father, but there was darkness surrounding that happiness. I wondered at what he was happy about exactly, and what was fueling the darkness? He was also trying to tone himself down because I was fearful of him. That little bit of knowledge was interesting. I knew he scared me, but how did he? Did I make a weird face? Then I remembered Bran asking me the same question earlier. I slowly pulled away, making a mental note to retouch that topic with Bran later. I felt a slight zing of joy at the fact that so far I seemed to be in the clear, I would have to ask Bran later if he noticed what I was doing or not. I smiled a little wider, and sat back into my chair, examining the spread on the table. To my amazement, there was a lot of meat, and plenty of vegetables all set out into individual bowls for the one meal that was my very favorite. Tacos! My mouth was watering at the smell of it all, and realized I must have been out a little longer than I thought for Bran to have been able to prepare all this. How did I miss the smell of this cooking earlier? I took a deep breath, and started to serve the food, when Samuel said "Wait Jessica." I stopped what I was doing and looked at him, a little startled. I was about to ask why, when surly as the sky is blue he pulled a small pen flashlight out of his breast pocket.

"What are you doing" I asked? He flashed the light in both my eyes, and I blinked from the brightness. "My Da didn't tell you that I am a medical doctor did he" he asked charismatically? Was that supposed to make me relax or just distract me? I rubbed my eyes, and sat back into my seat. "No, he didn't." I said as I gently bumped Bran with my shoulder in his chair next to mine. "Surprise!" I said with mock enthusiasm. Bran chuckled and bumped me back. I know I had a cheesy smile on my face, but I didn't care. I was happier in this moment than I had been sense my Gramps passed. I looked up at _Doctor_ Samuel Cornick, who was giving me and his father a vaguely nauseous look, that I was almost sure wasn't truly how he felt. When I asked him if I could please eat now or would he be assaulting me further with bright lights, he just laughed so I served myself some food. The next hour or so was wonderful. The food was great, the coffee I made us was as well, and the company was fun. The harshness of the morning was long behind me, and for the first time in a long time, I was laughing and having fun and that was all.

I looked up at the clock, and was shocked to see it was nearly nine! Thankfully, I had already pressed my clothes for the next day, and written out what I wanted to say during the service. The reminder of the sadness the next day would bring brought a sudden weight on my heart. I let out a small sigh, and tried to bring myself back into the conversation as a means of distraction. To my dismay, both Bran and his son were staring at me, obviously fully aware that I had not been paying attention. Did they ask me something? I searched frantically for something, anything, which would justify my obvious trip to lala land and back. I did not want to have a crying fit at this dinner table.

"I'm going to clear away some of these dishes; I'll be just a moment. Can I get either of you anything while I'm up?" I said as I stood up, a big dorky smile plastered on my face. I grabbed a few things, and started on my way towards the kitchen when no one answered right away. I may not have really given them time to, I was so eager to get away from their all seeing eyes, and secret way of knowing things. I had prided myself on hiding my real feelings from my face for many years. Knowing what perfect strangers were worried, angry, excited about, on a day to day basis, had trained me to do so, and mostly it worked. How then were these two men so capable of figuring me out? I had made my way to the kitchen, and scraped the dishes, when I felt hands on my shoulders. I knew it was Bran, because his presence came with a desire to calm and soothe that was unique to him, as with any persons emotions, except Bran's were more so, not to mention I didn't hear him walk behind me. I felt relaxed almost instantly, and found myself leaning back into him. He kissed the back of my head, because currently my chin was to my chest, my eyes tight shut to hold back the tears. How did this man disarm me so easily?

"There is so much more to you, Bran Cornick, than I believe I will ever be able to discover." I said almost to myself. I immediately felt his sadness descend like a dark cloud around us. I didn't like that. What did I say that made him feel that way? I turned around and searched his face for some clue. He looked as he always did, as though he was just observing and thinking. A perfectly content man with nothing to lose in the world: everything under control. The next words came out of my mouth, before I thought them through, which was certainly nothing new.

"I see you Bran, I see you." My eyes narrowed, and my arms crossed with the comment. "Yes, my dear, you certainly do, and I am afraid it certainly will be the death of me," he said with a smile, "although it will be an amusing time until then." That comment was odd. He didn't sound too upset about it, but he meant what he said just the same, I felt the surety in his words. I decided it didn't matter just now, and I didn't feel so overwhelmed with sadness anymore either. What do ya know!

"Well, then, until you kick the bucket, I have dishes to finish, and you have a son to chat with. Now go away!" I said with a smile on my face and humor in my voice. Apparently amused by my dismissal, he stepped back, started to walk away, but at the last second spun around and planted a kiss smack on my nose. Then he reached up and pinched it, not hard, but enough that I was left crossed eyed. I looked back at him, and reached up for my nose. Did he just do that? I couldn't help but laugh out loud. His eyes were dancing with humor despite his stoic look. Once he left I found that the dishes, something I usually did while pondering complicated things in my life, went by with thoughts of Bran and his son. It was a welcome relief.

Once I had completed cleaning the kitchen, had the dishwasher running and the table wiped down, I found my way into the living room where my friends were chatting. I sat down on the love seat opposite of them, nearest to the fire place, which was currently roaring with a wonderful fire. I liked that my guests made themselves at home this way. I prided myself that I didn't make them feel as uncomfortable as not to welcome themselves to any of the comforts I had to offer here. My Gramps was better at this than me. I smiled this time at his memory, and noticed a small orange book in one of the baskets near the fire place that held old magazines. It was my grandmothers, a gift to her mother which she had reclaimed when my Nona died. Seeing that Bran and Samuel were deep in conversation and in another language at that, I started to browse through it. With the warm fire, the little book, and a wonderful meal in my stomach, I of course dozed off right there in the love seat.


	8. Chapter 8

"Da she is exhausted, I don't know how she has even functioned the way she has thus far. Any of the new wolves would sleep for days after experiencing a change for the first time" Samuel said. Bran was worried about her, and found he didn't regret the choice to bring an unmated male near her. He knew if Jessica ever suspected that he wanted to hide her away from anyone she would be furious, her annoyance earlier proved that. He liked, though, that she would respect his feelings on subjects even if her choices were unhindered by them, he smelt her remorse when she thought she was over reacting.

"Can she be left alone tonight?" Bran asked. He was sprawled out on the larger of the two couches, watching her sleep, while his son made a decision. "Medically she should be fine in a few days; however I would prefer she not be alone for a while yet. I don't understand exactly what the connection she made with you is. I don't know how it will affect her, especially if she was able to feel the change with you." Samuel said with mild reproach in his tone. Bran let it go, because to Samuel this was his patient, and he, like any wolf, he was protective over what he perceived as his privilege to care for. For Samuel all of his patients fit that bill.

"I don't think it was hypothermia she was suffering from. A human body is not designed to take the stress of a change let alone a human mind unprotected by our ability to heal. From what you described she is suffering from the effects of shock, and perhaps the whip lash of our magic. Combined with her gifts, only time will tell what has been done, if anything." Samuel was quiet for a while after that, listening to her breath, and each precious heartbeat. Undoubtedly he was thinking about the information Bran had given him about her, and making carful calculations about his next course of action. Bran sat there staring into the fire, as he had done so many times before, pondering all the things required of an Alpha, and a man whose heart was scarred and hardened from nearly three centuries of mourning.

"Tell me again Da, exactly what she does" Samuel said suddenly. He had leaned back into his seat eyes closed and listening.

"It's nearly the same connection as I had with your grandmother. Except, with her a feeling of peace becomes her, and there seems to be no ability or affinity to control her subject. She is undoubtedly an empath, but she is able to focus her gift, and even shield herself to a degree. I have also never known of a human empath that can send emotions to another as well as receive them, although I don't know if she realizes she is sending them. She knew I was not human nearly from the moment we were on the highway from the airport." Bran trailed off, having triggered a thought process of his own.

"Her grandfather believed that his family line had descended from the fae. He thought that her gift was born of that influence. She however does not, logically being that her connection with them was thousands of generations past." Bran said. "I find that I agree with her assessment", he said the last with an almost surprised yet proud tone. Samuel snorted when he heard it.

"It's a full moon in two days, what will you do with her then." Samuel said changing the subject to one equally as important. Bran would have to stake his claim then, or live peaceably with any claims from the males in town. The thought of that brought his wolf thundering to the fore for a moment, demanding Samuels's attention as a wolf lower in the hierarchy. It was presentation of power, nothing a human would be able to hear or see, at least not something they would be able to identify. To both of their surprise, his Jessica startled awake, having sat up blinking at the two of them. She looked at them both, trying to sort out the current situation, when suddenly she gave Bran a reproachful look.

"What's going on here?" She said to Bran confused, "Are you alright?" She moved to get up from the couch and sat back down immediately apparently dizzy. Samuel was up from his seat, penlight in hand, already in Doctor Mode.

"Stop, Samuel, stop, I'm fine. I just stood up too fast. It happens; I just need a little more water I think." She said as she batted at his hands.

"Be still Jessica," he ordered, a true order, as if she was indeed a submissive in his care. She stopped, blinked at him for a moment, and stated "no, thank you. Move away from me." Her words while quiet were deadly serious. She looked him in the face, and Samuel saw it in her eyes. She had no intention of being touched by him for a moment longer, and he did as she requested and backed away. Not because he had to, her words did not move him that way, but because he recognized the demand for what it was, the manifestation of panic, which can be as dangerous as an enraged wolf given the right circumstances.

She was very angry, but beneath that she was scared. Bran watched her chest move up and down faster and faster, her heart beginning to race. She looked over to the fire, and peered into it. Closing her eyes, she muttered a little prayer and slowly regained her calm. A human wouldn't have heard the words, "Lord grant me peace" but Bran did.

"Samuel," she said quietly, "Forgive me. I was rude. I think I need to rest." With that she stood up, steady this time, walked over to Bran and kissed his forehead. She patted Samuels shoulder as she passed by him still crouched there in the middle of the room. Before turning down the hallway she looked back at them both with the assurance they could stay as long as they liked and to please make themselves at home. Neither of them missed it however, despite her calm, she was terrified.

"Who did that to her, Da." Samuel said finally. Bran didn't know, and said as much. He promised himself then and there he would destroy whoever it was when he found out. He remembered her reaction to her parent's photos that was a good place to start the hunt.

"I hope you kill whoever it was. What will we do with her tonight? Should I call Anna or Sage?" Samuel said, and stopped speaking. He waited for Bran to make the decision. Bran needed the distraction, because an Omega terrified drew out the deadly aspects of his personality. His Omega terrified only made it worse.

"Go home for tonight, I will stay. If I need you I will call. Will you be at the service tomorrow morning?" Bran asked.

"Yes Da, he was my friend too." Samuel said with a sad smile in his voice. "Perhaps try and explain to her what is happening, and she may be more willing to let me examine her tomorrow. It was a mistake to keep her in the dark." With the last he was out the door.

Bran sat there with the fire a while longer. He found himself reluctant to face her, and could not place why. She had taken so much in stride over the last two days, and did so with startling resiliency. Perhaps the doubt was not in her, but in him. For the first time sense Leah had walked away, he forced himself to think of Blue Jay woman. Not just of the pain of her absence, but of the woman.

It was a cool clear day out, and Bran was running wolf through the woods. The peace and isolation brought comfort to him in ways that civilization could not, for all that he loved to watch the humans; Bran was a bard after all. The unmistakable sound of pain broke the calming silence of his sanctuary, peaking the wolfs interest. He followed the noise and growing scent of blood for a few miles before he found her. In the moment his eyes meet hers, the earth did not move for any reason than her. He could not bear her death, and so saved her.

Bran easily gave her his whole heart, and still could not allow himself to be angry about it. She was his match, his mate, _his_. Her death broke him, and until now, he had wanted to believe there was no healing for it, for to heal this wound was to let go of her. He was not willing to give up what he had left. He took Leah to mate, because his need to protect his wolves was more than his desire to follow his Blue Jay woman into the next life. He managed it too; with Leah there was just enough control that the beast did not escape him. When Leah left them, his wolf mourned the loss of their mate. Bran, the man, could only feel relief. He was saddened at what he had allowed between them, but could not bring himself to regret it. Now there was Jessica. He didn't love her like he loved Blue Jay Woman, but she was his. How had that happened? He sat there for a moment longer looking into the fire, when the problem of how he would approach his Jessica was solved for him.


	9. Chapter 9

"Bran?" A quiet voice called from the landing. He heard her soft steps as she came and sat down beside him on the floor. She was close, almost touching, but to his great relief she left that small space. If he let go now, he wouldn't be able to hold on to her, the small piece of Blue Jay Woman that was left. He heard Jessica sigh. Bran looked at her. She sat with her knees tucked up close to her chest. Her chin rested on her knees, her gaze distant and lost to the flames.

"Do you know God, Bran" Jessica asked? Bran was startled at the question. He could feel her in his mind; he knew she felt what he felt. Why would she ask that? Was she, this small child, about to give him a lesson in life? Mentally he scoffed at her. But still he answered.

"Yes" Was all he gave her. His pain suddenly became more than he could bear. Her presence didn't allow him the safety of tucking these emotions away again. She drew them out to the fore, because the wolf was quiet in her presence he could not hide behind it, behind the rage. He willed his pain into anger. Anger was rich and fulfilling, anger he could deal with, anger he knew. Jessica glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. He caught it, concern…for him.

"Why do you not trust Him then?" she asked. For a brief moment he was taken off guard by the question, but that was replaced by a bitter anger he hadn't realized was there. That was it; he let his anger boil over, dripping like acid from his tongue. His beast surging forward to protect what was his, and Bran, his will stronger than ever, pushing it back made his eyes flare gold. He could not fathom her boldness, and was furious. He told her so. Angry words poured out like a hot caress, centuries of time to learn just the right ways to make them stick. Jessica for all that she was terrified, sat still, save the trembles of fear, watching the flames. He wanted to make her look at him, so she could see just how angry he was, but didn't dare touch her for fear of the damage he could unleash upon her. He had tried one last time, to push her away. When he was done, he was exhausted.

Panting he said, "Say something, you certainly haven't minded thus far!" But she sat silent, and thought. He could see her trembling, and she hugged her legs just a bit tighter than looked comfortable. Her eyes betrayed her, streaming tears like rivers. In that moment, he was certain he had lost her, and that realization brought with it a bitter satisfaction that was more familiar to him than the quiet peace she usually brought with her. There was no trace of that now, she was bottled up so tight he would have sworn she was a mundane human had he only have known this part of her. A small fleeting sadness, whispered through his heart at that. She waited a time longer, and soon Bran found himself completely out of steam, undoubtedly what she was waiting for. Drained he plopped himself on one of the couches, and cradled his face in his hands. He couldn't understand why, when he was around her, he was as raw as he was. Control was there, but no over his human heart, that he had bathed in the rage of the beast, in order to survive. He was fearful with her, he would be forced to feel this way always, how could anyone survive that?

Mercifully she spoke.

"It seems to me that the God we both know would never turn His back on the pain of His children. He too wept." Her voice shook with the fear of drawing his anger again. She paused, and as if hearing a soft whisper she turned her head to the side. Bran watched a small soft smile spread across her face, the trembles that had once wracked her body stopped. Peace like a tidal wave rushed through the room, and set Bran's thoughts to silence faster than anything else could have. "He is yours, and you are His. You know it to be truth, yet you hide your heart away from the Healer, the Creator of all things to include stubborn werewolves. Your Alpha" She chuckled as if she was enjoying a privet joke, and then an inquisitive look filled her face. She looked at him then, apprising him like she hadn't before.

"Is that what you call yourself Bran Cornick? Werewolf? _ He_ calls you _my beloved_." She said the last with a look that a wise woman would give to her pupil. Blue Jay woman often gave him that look. She rose from her place on the floor, walked over to Bran, kissed his forehead, and whispered in his ear.

"Don't be alone tonight. When you are ready, come to me." She quietly left the room; Bran listened for the soft sound of the door as she shut it tight. Once he was sure he was alone, he sat back down on the floor and prayed as he gazed into the fire once again. His offering was all the pain, worry, and fear he had held deep in his heart for so long. He had the feeling this offering was one of the best he had given in his long long life. He gave the burden away, for the briefest of moments, and what was returned to him, was a load not any less light, but somehow more manageable. He tried to bar the small nudging at the corners of his mind. His wolf, he thought, was his, and only his. Fear surged, as the thought of being alone with his wolf came to the fore of his thoughts. The memories of the dead, their faces, raced through his mind. So many, he destroyed so many. Blue Jay Woman, was that his punishment; unbearable pain, like that of which he caused to so many before? The oppression of it, almost more than he could bear, suddenly, became a plea. Bran, in his own way, cried out deep inside his heart. He opened it all up, and found as before, that the love of His God brought healing and forgiveness. He thought to himself, that this healing would be slower than the wounds silver could bring. Bran decided that he would appreciate it more this way. Some wounds needed to heal slowly from the inside out. Anything else would cause a scar, and festering infections below the surface. For now he buttoned himself back up, and took a deep breath. Suddenly his mind caught up with him, and he remembered what Jessica had said. She had called him a werewolf. He smelt the truth in her question afterwards too. She really didn't know that's what he was. If that wasn't conviction enough, nothing would be, and what had she said…he was beloved. Bran found that he already had known that to be truth, and was pleased with it.


	10. Chapter 10

Why that was more shocking to him, than the past hour, was nearly enough to make him laugh. This woman, _his woman, _was strong. She trusted the right things, and presented the quiet expectation of the same to those around her to as well. He remembered the peace that he felt from her. Is that where she drew if from, her faith? He remembered her prayer from before, grant me peace. Bran swore to himself in that moment that he would protect her from anything that would try to destroy such a beautiful thing; even himself. Had he not been so selfish, he would have run from her there and then, but he didn't. Instead he found himself briskly walking down the hallway to the spare bedroom she was sleeping in. As he neared her door, he waited listening to her. She was fast asleep; at least he thought so from the steady sound of her breathing. When he opened the door, he saw that he was correct. Tucked up on the far side of the bed, was his Jessica, her back to him wrapped around a full body pillow. To his joy, the bed covers on the empty side were drawn back in invitation. Bran entered the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He removed his clothing, sparing his boxers. He preferred to be nude, but thought it would scare her to wake up with him that way.

Her scent wrapped around him like the warmth of the blanket as he crawled into the bed. He lay there, keeping enough space between them as to not disturb her, and drifted off to sleep. At some point in the night, Jessica had wrapped herself around Bran as though he were the pillow she clung too before. He woke up as the sun peeked around the edges of curtains, with the soft tickle of her breathing under his chin. He didn't remember her moving in the night, and hoped she didn't panic when she woke. Her scent changed suddenly, and the distinct essence of arousal filled the air. Bran found himself responding to her, and wondered exactly what she was dreaming about. He cleared his throat and moved a little. It was just enough to wake her. In a flash she was bolt upright in the bed blinking down at him.

"Hello," she said huskily. He watched as the reality of the situation set in, and to his immense pleasure, that beautiful crimson color filled her face. She had on a pair of pajama shorts and the same cotton tee as before, with the exception of the lack of a bra, she was the picture of modesty. It was the fact that she had used this man as a human body pillow that had her reeling.

"Sorry," she squeaked. She opened her mouth to say something else, and shut it again, too tired to really gather any real thoughts to express her embarrassment. Chuckling to himself, he sat up, leaned in and kissed her mouth. It was a soft kiss, meant to be tender. He hadn't forgotten his angry words last night, even if she seemed to have. Thankfully, after the brief surprise of his actions had passed, she kissed him back. When he pulled away from her, her eyes were soft, and a gentle smile played across her face.

"I am going to go get ready for the service. I will be back for you in an hour and a half, to take you to the church." He kissed her again, so she wouldn't forget she was his. He took his time dressing himself, cognizant of his audience. He found the wolf preening, as did he, in her admiration. Before he shut the door to her bedroom, he let her see how he felt for her in his eyes. The wolf was satisfied when they caught her breath, and her heart skipped a beat.

I watched Bran shut the door, and tried very hard to feel guilty about what just happened, but couldn't. That little fact was enough to get me through the next hour and a half with mild sense of calm versus the alternative; shaky panic, especially because he had kissed me right after I woke up. I was trying to convince myself my breath wasn't gross, but I guess it didn't matter, he did it twice. When Bran got us to the church I realized instead of being there early, we were just on time. I felt the first zing of anxiety run through me, and realized it wasn't only mine. I glanced at Bran, and wasn't surprised to see his boyish game face on. He looked at me and smiled a calm almost goofy smile, which didn't fit the situation. We were going to a funeral of sorts. Then I heard my Gramps voice in my head, "Jesse, we don't die, only the shells that hold our soul. I am thankful for my life, and am more thankful that I can return to our Father in Heaven when my time is done here. I expect you to be happy for me, and play good music at my funeral. I mean it, no sad stuff." I smiled at this, because he was serious. I had his letter to me in my pocketbook, a means of comfort, and realized he was right. He had peace, and we should celebrate it that coupled with a long happy life, my Gramps was where he should be, Heaven. I let out a small breath, and sucked it back in when the cold air blasted me from the car door Bran had just opened. I hissed, and wished I had had time to think of something smart to say to Bran for that, but before I could my door was open, him standing there waiting to help me out of the car. I am a war veteran, have taken the lives of my enemies, survived abuse, death and loneliness and this man, aka werewolf desired to help me out of the car? I snorted at the humor in this, and let him, enjoying the confused look plastered on his face. He continued with his gentlemanly ways when he offered me his arm as we walked towards the church. I took it, finding that this peek into manners was fantastic. I had spent so much of my life rejecting that type of behavior from men or the occasional confused woman, that to receive it coupled with his demanding nature, was almost enough to distract me from my anxiety.

The church wasn't huge, and was beautiful in its simplicity, reaching out I found that Bran thought so too. When the doors to the church opened we were immediately in the sanctuary, which was full to the point of some people standing on either side of us. It touched my heart, and yet made me very aware that these people all knew each other, and I was the only stranger. But this wasn't about me or my anxiety; I had a job to do. I set my feelings aside, drew up my shields and put my game face on. This time however, I felt a sharp sting that made me wince, followed by Bran's hold on my arm tightening ever so slightly. I glanced at him in the corner of my eye, and released my hold on my shields a little to get a read on him. Relief flooded from him instantly; had my shields hurt him too? That scared me a little bit, why would that be happening? I let them loose a little more in hopes of getting a little more info, and felt his possessiveness like a freight train to the gut. He was broadcasting it to me, but I knew to look. His outward appearance seemed normal, calm even, but I felt certain he believed they would all know it. I looked at them then, and saw the other in their eyes. Some of these people were human, and were oblivious, but the ones like Bran, they had eyes for only him. He demanded it, hell I looked too. He found my eyes, and I searched for a moment. I found nothing threatening to me, nothing that reflected the desperation from last night that threatened us all. I smiled at him, a real smile, and asked him which pew was ours, wondering how much of a show we just put on. He smiled back at me, and it reached his eyes, but I reached out to him regardless. He was bottling himself up now, so that these werewolves would see their leader, not the man. We started to walk forward, cognizant the whole church was watching us, I tried to focus on not falling in these ridiculous heals I had chosen to wear instead of my new discovery. When we neared the first row, I saw Samuel. Surprisingly the fear and trepidation from last night was nowhere to be found. Was he trying to intimidate me on purpose? A little zing of shock ran through me, Bran had played me. Oh well, It wasn't anything to worry over. I couldn't help the smile on my face though.

"Hello Samuel, it's good to see you this morning." I said giving his shoulder a little pat. He smiled and rose from his seat, smirked at his father, then gave me a kiss on my cheek, its good to see you well this morning. He knew, I knew, I could tell from the look on his face, and of course I reached out to him. I wanted to be mad, but couldn't, then I felt the sneakiness flood from him. "Jessica," he said, "This is my younger brother, Charles and his mate Anna." He stepped back and indicated with his hand a very large man of Native American descent and a small woman of perhaps Irish decent. The man was oppressive, and when I reached out to him, my shields took a little jolt. I stiffened at that, as did Bran. Again, he felt what I did. I wasn't able to read this Charles at all, and in fact I felt a force almost vicious push me out. That would be a puzzle to solve later; I forced my face into polite interest so as not to look confused. When I saw Anna, I couldn't help but smile, because she was not hard to read at all, even though that oppressive force was trickling out of Charles into her, but I was able to work around it this time. I would have to ask Bran later what mate meant to werewolves, because I felt Samuels humorous dig at his father with that statement.

"Hello, Charles, Anna, it's a pleasure to meet you" I said with honesty, "thank you for being here today." I could feel, at least from Anna, that she had a desire to comfort Bran, as did Charles. She looked me over for the briefest of seconds, when a smile as bright as the sun spread across her face. I could feel her genuine happiness when she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you as well." I shook her hand, and gave Charles a simple nod of acknowledgment. From Anna I was able to pick up her anxiousness of how he might act if I tried to touch him. She was also worried about what he would think of me, because he was protective of his father, and my presence was making him cranky. A little wisp of shock ran through my stomach, how could they know what happened last night? Did anything that note worthy happen at all? Why would I make anyone cranky? I felt a slight pressure on the small of my back, Bran nudging me forward down the pew. We found a place on the end nearest the pulpit, and an older man dressed in the traditional garb of a pastor was waiting to begin the service. Bran took my coat and draped it over the pew, then removed his in similar fashion. When he sat, he was close enough to me, that his legs touched mine, and I found that I liked it. Bran leaned back into the pew and rested his hand lightly over mine, which I had folded neatly in my lap. I twisted my hand and held his, then muttered a little prayer for peace. When had this happened, were we cuddling now? My heart was currently beating faster than it should, because I knew that it was almost my turn to get up and speak and Bran was confusing the hell out of me. First he dosnt trust me, then he turns into a wolf, then he yelled at me, now he is holding my hand at my Gramps funeral. My head was spinning. I could hear the preacher speaking, but for the life of me, I couldn't force myself to pay attention.

"Jessica, my dear, would you please come forward, and share a few words with us about your dear Grandfather?" the preacher said gently. Well I am happy I heard that, otherwise I would look the fool. I gave Bran's hand a hard squeeze, and stood up. He rose with me, and stayed that way until I have left the pew and made my way about halfway to the pulpit. I laid out the crumpled papers I had scribbled my words out on down, smoothed out the shin length pencil skirt I was wearing, and looked out at my audience. I really looked at them, and as I did I reached out. I felt their grief, curiosity, confusion, anger, and weariness. It sang to me like the song of my life. So many lost, so alone, except for my faith, and I couldn't help the small tears that escaped down my face. I was so happy in the back of my mind that I had waterproof mascara on. Their weariness is what changed the course of my words, more than anything else. I let out a small sigh, folded the paper on the pulpit and set it in the little cubby underneath. I looked out at this group of people who came out to mourn and gawk and told them truth.

"Good day to all of you. I truly appreciate that you were able to be here, in honor of my Grandfather, a man who helped shape me into the woman I am today, a man that I looked upon as my father. I had prepared a small statement that I wished to read to you, a simple collection of words that would allow me to express to you, how valuable he was to me. However, each of you would know that already, because as you sit here, I can sense how much you value those around you." I felt a little jolt of shock come from Bran. I glanced at him, and he looked as he always did, but through everything else I could hear from this room, he was loud and clear. He wished I would be more cautious. I really needed to talk to him about this. Distance usually made this quieter, not louder. I ignored him, and pressed on.

"So I have chosen to share with you what I believe my Gramps always was trying to drive home to me. Gramps asked me all the time, Jesse what do you think? He truly wanted me to think, not so much hear what I thought." That earned me a few chuckles, because they would have known the tone he used. I was starting to be able to pick out the people who really knew him versus those that simply knew of him.

"I asked myself that question, as I walked in the doors of the church. The answer I came up with is that today should be a remembrance of a life spent doing honest work, earning an honest profit, providing for a family that brought my Gramps true joy; a family not bound by blood and flesh, but by love and trust. He learned, and taught, and loved, and he lost. He grieved, and he pulled himself back up out of darkness as many times as a human ever should have to. He lived." I let my words settle for a moment. I was speaking with real passion now, because I was caught up in the moment.

"What I think is that my Grandfather had an extra-ordinary, extraordinary life, because he invested himself in it, and the people in it. He held onto what was meaningful to him, and protected it as best he could for the eighty plus years he was alive. He understood that life is not flesh and bones, but rather what makes each heart beat. That is precious and worth so much more than we can trade for it. Today as you walk out of this church, back to your lives, I hope you ask yourself, what you think about your life. I hope you hold your loved ones, I hope you cherish every moment you have. I hope you protect what makes your heart beat; value each trial, and each joy. They will define you regardless of your desires, however there is no rule written that you cannot define what is around you. I loved him, so much, and I miss him terribly. But I know he is where he should be, whole and happy, a continuous example to us all. Thank you so much for being here today." I looked out at the room, some looked very board, others as though I had slapped them, and some as though they heard my words. I let them see me in my eyes, for those thought to look for it. There was no challenge, but an earnest desire for them to hear my words, and hopefully glean from them. I nodded, and started for my pew, when I saw that Bran was there waiting to escort me back. I smiled at him, a weary smile, yet no less sincere, and took his arm. A few more came forward to share stories that didn't surprise me at all. They were tales of generosity, wisdom, faith. My Gramps loved people. I was holding Bran's hand for the remainder of the service, not for tactile comfort, but because the connection I had with him was singing with tension. He was wounded, and I felt responsible. If I hadn't been so agitated I would have tried to send soothing thoughts, as it was, we were stuck being miserable. When all the stories had come to an end, it was time for Bran to sing. My Gramps had asked that he sing Oh Danny Boy, and he had told me he could. The preacher asked him to come forward, so he did, joined by Samuel who had a fiddle, and Charles who was headed for the piano. I watched curiously as they prepared to sing, and when the first few notes of Bran's rich alto voice with melodic fiddle mixed into the air, sprinkled with the dulcet tones of the piano my heart held still. All the hair on my neck stood up at attention, and I felt a chill run through me. I knew I had tears running down my face, but it didn't matter, because in this moment, I couldn't see or hear anything other than Bran and his sons.

That as it turned out proved to be a very bad thing. One moment I was lost in the magic of their song, the next I was moving very fast through the air. I heard a No very loud in my ear, most likely Anna who had scooted down the pew closer to me when the men had gotten up. I got a glimpse of Bran's eyes turning very gold. Instinctively I ducked my head down to my chest; the pain of impact was delayed for a moment. I was aware that all the wind was gone from my lungs, and somehow I had retrieved my pocket knife from my bra, but the world was spinning. Did someone just throw me? I was coughing a lot, and trying to get air. I threw my back against the pew I had landed on, and forced myself to see what was happening. Charles hovering over a blond woman, who was making such a face, one of hate, at me! "Mine! I'll kill you whore!" she was screeching. I didn't know her from Adam, yet could feel the savage rage licking at me like thousands of snakes with acid for tongues. If her words weren't enough, I could hear it from her so loud that I didn't even have to reach out. I managed to stand, but my left arm was limp at my side, I think it was dislocated although the pain was worse than the last time that had happened to me. In a moment that would be important, for now I couldn't be here so vulnerable. I kicked off the only one of my high heeled shoes I still had on, and made my way back to the other side of the church, towards the pulpit. There were no threats there, and I needed to focus. I know I made no noise, save for a few grunts, but the whole congregation was focused on me. I felt something warm running down my spine, blood most likely. Hunger wafted through the room, and fear. Was that a werewolf thing? Did they want to eat me? I couldn't take them all on, so I focused on the only one so far who had hurt me, while I frantically searched for the safest exit. She wasn't moving, and was sitting on all fours panting, throat bared like an animal. She was like Bran, so maybe this was an instinct thing. In my peripheral I could sense a shadow. I adjusted my stance to deal with the new threat, and realized it was Samuel. He was moving very slowly, hands up, talking to me. What was he saying?

"What?" I croaked? He stopped and looked at me with sympathy. All I could hear was white noise, my instincts were telling me to focus, but I must have hit my head. This was dangerous. I blinked a few times, and forced myself to focus. This time I heard him.

"Jessica, you are bleeding from the side of your head. It's important for you to sit down. Leah won't hurt you anymore." I heard Samuel, but Bran is what allowed me to trust. I could feel him strong as ever through our connection, and he was reeling. He was so upset, he could not move for fear of what he might do. He was in hot debate about just killing the woman, Leah who had hurt me, to making sure I was alright, to ripping the whole pack to shreds for not stopping Leah in the first place when she moved to hurt me.

"Bran?" I said quietly as I plopped down to my butt. I don't know if I did it for his sake, or because I was unable to stand any longer. He turned and looked at me, his eyes a deep pale gold. It was sheer rage and power in his eyes. I felt so safe in the gaze of that other, that I simply let the knife go.

"Ok," I said eyes still locked on Bran's, "Samuel I won't try to stab you, could you put my arm back?" I chuckled a little, or least I tried. Samuel was fast, and picked through my hair and moved my head all which ways. I wanted my arm back in socket, and I was too dizzy to do it myself. Once Samuel wasn't moving as urgently, I asked him to please fix it. He paused, telling me it would hurt that my scapula was broken. I glared at him, and quietly reminded he had nothing to fear, I had already dropped the knife. He nodded at me, reached over and put it back. I wish I could have screamed, but there was no air left in my lungs to do so. I slumped forward and tried to catch myself with my good arm, but it was jello. I waited for the floor and I to reacquaint but Bran was there. He pulled me close and held me while Samuel continued to poke at me. Suddenly, I was in the air again, but this time I was moving because I was being carried. I rested my head against Bran, because it was really heavy all of the sudden. He moved faster than Samuel had, and shortly we were in the kitchen of the church. I heard a loud clatter as pots and such were sent flying. I was laid out on the counter, which was far less comfortable than Bran. I heard them talking then.

"She will need stitches, staples would be better. There is a nasty gash across the side of her head, but the girl knows how to take a fall. Her shoulder took most of the impact, although her skull may still be cracked. I will need to x-ray her to be sure. If we can stop the bleeding she will have a better chance." He stopped talking. I felt Brans anguish, through our connection followed by a cold dark rage building and building. He wouldn't survive if that got loose, and that hurt my heart. I needed to do something, anything to fix this. I tried to roll over onto my side and nearly fell of the counter. I heard a growl, then felt Bran rest his head on my chest as he set me back down. There was a sharp pressure on the back of my head, someone holding a towel there to staunch the bleeding.

"Da, Charles can get us to the clinic. Can you carry her?" I needed to say something, but when I tried, my words were slurred. Bran looked at my face with such heartbreak, that I wished in that moment I could do anything to fix it. In a desperate attempt I reached out to our connection. He said he could feel me in his mind, but could he feel what I felt? I had to try. I thought the words and images with all my might and shoved them down the connection.

How much I admired him, how he made me feel alive again, that it scared me that I cared about a person like that again. I was afraid to be hurt again, but found it funny that I was anyways. I showed him how much he didn't frighten me, but let him know I could feel that rage and I thought it wholly manageable. I showed him the Love that God had for me, the peace He gifted me with and trying to make him understand I could handle that dark black nightmare he had hidden away. I wasn't sure how I knew that, but I was so certain of it, that I almost ignored Bran and just spoke to the rage. It responded to me, like a small puppy coming to call. It hit me hard at first, because I was shocked at how easy it was to take it from Bran, the man who was totally bottled up. Once I got past the flinch, it came and went, like I was a human filtration system. I gave him back a sedated version of that black inky rage. The whole room calmed down, and with the tension gone, I blacked out, my energy spent on being a human water cooler. I felt his shock, before I was totally out, and couldn't help but cough up a chuckle.


	11. Chapter 11

I woke up in a place I had never seen before. I looked around for anything familiar, but all I could see was miles and miles of nothing. I reached out and I felt oddly alone, so I said a prayer. This place wasn't anything, not cold, hot, night or day; it was expanse pure and simple.

"Father in Heaven, hear my plea. Hear the plea of your daughter and have mercy on me, for I am a sinner, and unworthy of your Love." I started out all my prayers this way, but I stopped suddenly, because my words thundered through the expanse as though my thoughts were hooked up to a loud speaker. Warmth and love, and peace engulfed me, it was overwhelming to the point I fell to my knees, with my eyes tight shut. I was afraid, but I was aware. Suddenly all of my life was flashing in bits and pieces through the expanse around me. Shame filled me up to the point I thought I might sink through the filmy ground beneath me. Then I realized, I had been forgiven, and all of it didn't matter. I didn't deserve Heaven, but I was saved from Hell by the Mercy and Love of my Savior. Finally I heard a soft little voice; at least I think it was a voice. I opened my eyes and there in the distance were two doors.

"Look," I heard, "I set before you life, choose."

I walked towards them, and soon realized they were quite some distance apart. I would have to choose which one I went to first. One door was made from a rich yellow pine. Carved into the wood were thick pine trees full of birds, mountains and snow. It reminded me of Montana, Bran, and my grandfather's house. It was further from me, and was moving farther away each second. I didn't have time to look at the other door, which was suddenly right in front of me and very bright. I knew I had to choose, so I ducked around it and broke out into a full on sprint after the yellow pine door. It was way farther away than it was a moment earlier, and I could see it getting smaller in the distance. The maybe voice was back, urging me to run faster, letting me know if I didn't, I would never get home.

I was heartbroken, because it was growing farther and farther away, faster than I could take myself. I wanted to throw myself down and cry but realized I didn't matter.

"Choose" the voice said again, but with urgency I hadn't heard before. I had to get there, and pushed myself to run harder.

"Then help me!" I shouted. As I did, I felt such power come to my call that my legs were able to move faster than ever before. The door slowed, as if it knew I wanted to enter through it. I couldn't slow down fast enough however; when I came upon it I simply crashed right through, causing the wood to splinter and crack. On the other side of it was a steep staircase which instead of tumbling down, I ran down, on all four paws. I took enough time to notice they were a grey color, but pressed on down the stairs.

"Hurry, you will have to jump!" the voice urged.

At the bottom was a great canyon, one which I leapt over with no trouble. I couldn't believe I had done so because the expanse was perhaps twelve feet or more. I had to keep going though, if I didn't, it would be too late. On the other side of the expanse, was a woman, one that beckoned to me. I ran to her, and when I was almost upon her, she rose up from the ground a brilliant Blue Jay. I paused and looked at her, because she was the largest blue jay I had ever seen, and then again nothing here was anything I had seen before. I heard the maybe voice again.

"Will you bring him peace?" she asked me. Of course I would, how I knew she was talking about Bran would be a topic for another time. I could see the consequences of my failure, flashing before my eyes. Was she sending this to me? It made no difference; it is not by my strength I do anything, but by His alone. I latched onto the confidence that surety brought me, when a bright, warm light flashed all around me. The light wrapped around me warm and comforting, when I felt things start to move and twist. Great pain ran through my body, and it felt as though I was being torn apart and reshaped. I gasped for air, and finally it came to me.

"Da! "the rest was not English. I looked around and found I was wrapped in a blanket on a bed in a room that I didn't recognize. I was covered in drying blood and could smell fur, leather and snow? I looked over to see Samuel with a huge dorky grin plastered on his face, staring down at me as though heaven itself were peering through my eyes. Did he smell like that? The door flew open then, so hard that it stuck into the wall. That was interesting to me, and I looked to see who might have done that. There before me, in all his splendor was Bran. He had a look of desperation on his face, and disbelief. I felt my face grow soft, because he hurt so.

"Bran, come here." I barley recognized my own voice. In an instant the blanket was being torn away from me, hands searching for the cuts and bruises I knew should have been there. I looked down too, and saw that I was totally undressed, save for my undergarments, again. His hands lingered on the scares from the IED explosion, but soon grabbed me possessively.

"Bran," I said tentatively, because his face was nearly joyous, "I'm naked, confused, and in a room I have never seen before. Everything is really smelly and your son is still in this room, even though I am naked, and you are grabbing me. That's something I hoped for you to do privately. Also I stink so badly. Why do I stink?" I sounded just a little cranky with the last statement.

"Because you need a shower; do not ever scare me like that again, ever!" He said with a touch of humor and a lot of seriousness that made me laugh a little. He leaned into my neck and took a deep breath. "Mine." He declared, his eyes changing from the warm hazel to a pale gold. Hearing him talk like that made my stomach clench in anticipation, and a sweet musky smell filled the room.

"Ok," Samuel said, and bent down "I'll be back in a few hours to check on you. Da, no strenuous activity for her, not that you will listen to me anyways," he muttered. He forced the door out of the wall, and shut it. There was very large hole where the knob had lodged itself. I whistled in appreciation, and grinned down at Bran, who was currently pressed up to my chest, listening to my heart beat. His eyes were closed, and I could feel him breathing more and more slowly. I just took a deep breath, and waited for him to truly calm down. I wasn't in a hurry if he wasn't. Besides, it was long run to get here.


End file.
